


Let me

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Basically Sam likes taking care of Dean, Clothing Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s10e08 Hibbing 911, I'm not sure. But Sam likes undressing Dean., M/M, Missing Scene, Oh hey there's a tag for that, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Takes Care Of Dean, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam might not be able to do anything about the other things that are plaguing Dean, but this he can help with.</p><p>Missing scene from Hibbing 911 that gets the boys out of their Fed threads and back into their plaids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frozen_delight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozen_delight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722874) by [frozen_delight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozen_delight/pseuds/frozen_delight). 



> My dearest frozen_delight wrote me the most gorgeous, heart-rendingly perfect missing scene from Jody's POV in Hibbing 911 (seriously go read it) and titled it "Comfort" which is the name of [one of my favorite songs of all time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmmT9IT9k6A) and I couldn't stop thinking about it so I wrote this in response, though I'm not quite sure what "this" is. I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> You smoothed me out.  
> I hope you know there's nothing  
> I could give,  
> For showing me how to live.
> 
> I don't know how  
> But you know just how I feel.

Dean’s shrugging out of his jacket before Sam even has the door closed, his movements jerky and distracted. Sam follows him into the hotel room, folding his Fed suit jacket over the back of the chair. A few rooms down yet another civilian is having her view of the world broken down and put back together all wrong. Not just another civilian, though; a friend. Someone they’d already saved once. Another friend they hadn’t been quick enough to save from the truth. If the taut lines of Dean’s body are anything to go by, his mind is running along the same worn-out track.

“Poor Donna,” Sam says softly, and Dean goes still for a moment. “Getting this sprung on her, after everything.”

Dean’s facing away from Sam, holding his right arm tucked against his body. Then he shakes himself and goes to work on his tie. “She’ll be all right.”

Sam huffs a laugh and steps up behind him, rests his chin lightly on Dean’s shoulder. “Remember when I used to think telling people the truth was a good idea?”

“Always said you were a geek,” Dean elbows him. “Never said you were that smart.”

Sam bites Dean’s earlobe in retaliation, and as distractions go it works about as well as you might expect when they remember they’re hunting vampires. 

“God I hate these things,” Dean mutters, jerking on his tie, fumbling the knot.

And Sam might not be able to fix anything else, but this…This, Sam can do. 

“I don’t,” Sam says, reaching out, stilling Dean’s hands and smoothing his own down the length of Dean’s now-rumpled silk tie. Dean’s muscles tense and relax when Sam runs his hands over his chest, his callused fingers rasping sweetly against the well-tailored dress shirt. “I don’t hate them.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean grumbles, not leaning into him but not pushing him away, either. “You’re a kinky freak.”

Sam smiles reflexively, rests a hand over Dean’s heart. “Let me?”

It’s a handful of seconds before Dean agrees, ducks his head in the smallest of nods, and Sam exhales slowly and reaches for him.

Dean’s skin is warm, slightly damp beneath his collar. Sam unknots Dean’s tie carefully, pulls it free in a single smooth, sure pull. It flows through his fingers like water and he doesn’t look at Dean yet, just drapes it over the chair to rest on top of Sam’s own suit jacket. Still doesn’t look at Dean while he takes his time with the shirt buttons. Dean usually gets bored halfway through and pulls the whole thing over his head, getting his hands and his watch stuck in the sleeves, and his bracelets and ring when he still had them, so Sam unbuttons the cuffs, too. For the first time in a long time Sam doesn’t avert this eyes from the empty place in the center of Dean’s chest and when he goes to pull the shirt off he lays his hand there, feels how his brother’s heart is beating faster than before but his chest is rising and falling on deep, steady breaths. When Sam finally looks at his face, his eyes are shut. He looks tranquil, almost. Calm. The rippling surface of a deep lake.

Sam goes to one knee and rests his forehead again Dean’s hip. 

“Sammy,” Dean says and it sounds like a warning.

“Let me.” Less of a question, this time, and he doesn’t wait. 

He unties Dean’s shoes, eases them off his feet. Socks follow and he closes his ears to Dean’s quiet protest, rolls Dean’s ankle. Braces himself for Dean’s hand on his shoulder, steadying his brother. He flexes Dean’s joints and rubs his arches before reuniting each bare foot with the carpet. Dean’s belt is a simple matter, Dean’s belts usually are. He slides Dean’s slacks down his hips, pulling slowly until they’re skin to skin, Sam breathing slow and shallow against Dean’s thigh. Kisses like freckles, like salt, silken hairs whisper under his lips and Dean’s fingers are firm in Sam’s hair.

“Sammy.” It’s Dean asking, now, and Sam eases back on his heels. Helps Dean step out of his slacks, looks up. Only lets himself look for a minute because he can guess how his face looks right now and given the list of things Dean’s dealing with Sam doesn’t need to tack on his own issues. Dean knows Sam needs him; he doesn’t need to know how much. 

Dean’s legs may be trembling but his hands are steady when he pulls at Sam, hauls him to his feet. Dean is in his underwear and Sam's still tucked away behind a perfect full windsor. Dean wraps Sam's tie around his hand, uses it to hold him close and Sam, God help him, pulls away. Leans away from his brother, his neck straining when he shakes his head. “We have work to do, Dean.”

Dean’s palm cradles the back of his head, holds him close. He’s safe in his brother’s hands and Dean says, “Let me.”


End file.
